


Damp Darkness and Soaking Starlight

by CaptainL95



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Gen, Omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 14:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainL95/pseuds/CaptainL95
Summary: Not only does Celes have to perform an opera, with no prior stage experience, but she has to do so with a burstingly full bladder, with hundreds of eyes on her and a need to not mess up.





	Damp Darkness and Soaking Starlight

"Grr...what kind of backwards-thinking woman would willingly wear something so gaudy and constrictive," Celes Chere lamented as she attempted to squeeze into the frilled white dress. Celes, disgraced general for the Empire now working with the opposing Returners, was a woman of many fearsome talents. Not only was she a formidable fighter with a sword, but being infused as a Magitek Knight at a young age made her one of the few humans in the world capable of using magic. There was a very good reason she was granted the title of general, before being instead branded as a traitor.

However, no amount of formal training could have prepared her for the kinds of challenges she was faced with daily in the company of Returners. Latest of which was their plan to get to the Empire's capital of Vector to free the remains of magical beings known as espers, who had been drained of their power and taken on the form of magicite. As Ramuh had told them, it was the only way to help their friend Terra. Problem was, Vector was isolated on an island with no civilian ships crossing the channel. As such, their only option was commandeering the world's lone airship, owned by a gambler known as Setzer. In an unbelievable series of fateful coincidences, the party met with the owner of an opera house, whose lead star Maria was going to be whisked away by Setzer, and Maria looked nearly identical to Celes.

Unfortunately, as Celes was now discovering, the two weren't exactly indistinguishable. Maybe Maria shared her hair, face, possibly even height, but their builds were pretty different. Maria must have been a lot more thin and wiry than the fit Celes, that was the only explanation why Celes was having such a hard time fitting into the costume. Still, slowly but surely, she was slipping the delicate dress up her torso.

Just as she was about to succeed, the door to the dressing room opened. "Hey, Celes, how's the rehearsal going?" Locke walked through, surveying the room, until his gaze met Celes', who was staring at him, frozen, a trait he soon mimicked. After all, while the dress was nearly on, the top was only just barely slipped up to the point where it covered what it needed to. Locke's face turned bright red, as he finally snapped out of the hypnotic trance he was put under and looked away. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to look..."

Celes could have gotten angry at the blatant perversion, she was certainly bothered by it, but one didn't become a high-ranking officer by having thin skin. Instead, she took the chance to pull the dress all the way up to where it belonged, threading her arms through the shoulder straps. "I'm still trying to look over my lines. I think I have the gist of it, but I'm still a little worried about getting them exact."

Locke approached further, almost touching Celes with his proximity. "Where did you put the script? You can run the lines by me, I'll play everyone else and check that you get the dialogue just right."

"I left it on the table here," she answered, grabbing the booklet and handing it to Locke. "Remember, I only need to learn Act 1, we're hoping Setzer will abduct me before then."

"Understood, then I'll start from the beginning. Let's take a look..." He flipped through the first couple pages, until he found the opening to Scene 1. "Here it is." He cleared his throat and entered a stiff stance, likely some attempt at acting and sounding posh. "The war between the East and the West was growing more violent by the day..."

Celes tried to stifle her laughs, she really did, but she couldn't help but crack up. "I-is that what you call acting, Locke?"

"Hey, cut me a break! I'm not exactly a traveling showman, you know!"

"Yes, I suppose a common thief would have no appreciation for the arts."

"Hey, that's 'treasure hunter'! Call me a thief again, and I'll...I don't know what I'll do!" His threats were usually a lot more explicit and visceral, but Celes was spared the gory detail.

"It's all semantics. In any case, my character doesn't appear until later in the scene. If you could watch me rehearse and check my movements with the notes in the script?"

Locke hurriedly flipped the pages forward and back, attempting to find the start of the next scene. At some point in his wild search, he came across a specific encounter, early enough that Celes would have to perform. "Are you prepared for this dance, here?" He held the script out, pointing to a specific part of the page.

Celes didn't need to look. She knew exactly what he was referring to. She was dreading it. "A general has never had a reason to dance."

"Then, should I help you practice? If 'world famous opera star Maria' can't dance on stage, Setzer's sure to know someone's pulling something over him."

Locke had his chance to blush violently, now it was Celes' turn. Her eyes widened, with pupils dilated, flustered to the point of hardly being able to respond without stuttering out of control. "D-d-d-d-dance with you?!"

"Do you see anyone else in here?" He held his left arm out, while his right continued to hold the script, scanning intently, until he found a specific line of interest. "Come, Maria. Follow my lead," he beckoned, tossing the script onto the table.

Though she was shaking, eyes darting every which way, she still closed the distance and took Locke's hand, who gripped hers tightly and pulled her away into the sways and bobs of a dance, but not a graceful one. It wasn't just Celes who had no experience dancing, clearly her partner was just as unaccustomed to the motions. Both of them kept jerking the other in directions they weren't expecting to move, continuously bumping into each other whenever one attempted to get closer, stepping on the other's feet, it was a mess.

However, despite the mockery of a dance she had been conscripted into, Celes didn't mind. While it was hardly delicate, Locke was embracing her, leading her, sharing his warmth with her icy heart. It was just the two of them alone in the room, in a shared moment of intimacy. She leaned into Locke's chest and closed her eyes, muscles relaxing, turning her steps a lot less stiff and combat-like, into something slightly resembling a dance. "Why did you rescue me back in South Figaro? You put your life on the line smuggling out a disgraced Empire general. They could have had you executed, all for me."

"There was a woman in my past," Locke elaborated, a somber tone taking over his voice as he rested his cheek on Celes' head. "And I failed to protect her."

"So you just see me as a replacement for this girl?"

"I'd like to say I just don't want to see another woman suffer like she did, but...maybe you're right. I don't know myself."

Their dance continued in silence for several minutes, only the sound and sensation of each other's breathing to liven the scene. If they didn't have responsibilities to attend to, Celes wouldn't have minded staying like this for a while longer. "I should go," Locke admitted, separating himself and stepping back. "Edgar and Sabin are going to spread rumors if I'm in here with you for too long."

"Y-yes, I agree," Celes muttered, straightening her long, blonde hair between her fingers. "I'd rather not deal with those kinds of looks. And I should probably return to the script. I only have an hour left, after all."

"Well then, I suppose I'll see you on the stage." Locke waved farewell and backed out the door to leave Celes to her rehearsal, but turned back at the final second. "You look good in that dress, by the way." And with that, he was gone.

Once the compliment had sunk in, all Celes could do was sigh. "Just like him, to get the final word." Still, she looked down at herself, twisting her head around to look around her whole body. "Well, it wouldn't do much for battle, but...maybe it's not a bad look either." She wouldn't wear something like this if she had a choice, but she might not hate all the eyes seeing her in this attire.

However, she did have legitimate reason to dislike the costume. Getting it on was such a hassle, and getting it off would almost assuredly be more of the same. But why would she want to remove it so soon? Well, because of a building need that she had only just realized, while she had her mind thinking about herself. "Oh, I need to relieve myself. That's inconvenient."

Celes was not some dainty lady who couldn't hold her liquids. She'd be a failure of a general if she needed to duck out of battle every other minute, so her bladder strengthened as a natural side effect of her work. But she was still human, even with her natural magic, which meant she had to pee at some time. That time was now, it turned out. Very gently, she pressed her legs together to apply pressure to ease the discomfort.

Her dressing room didn't have a private bathroom, but there was no reason she couldn't exit out to the lobby and use the public restroom. The only obstacle was time. She had only one hour to spend before the performance began, at which point she would need to be ready to take the stage. If she were to use the ladies' room, that short block would need to fit in undressing and redressing in this annoying dress, where one experience only successful because of luck wouldn't do her any good. Not that she doubted she could fit that all into an hour, but with all the rehearsing she still needed to do, she needed every second she could get.

She looked over at the script on the table, deeply thinking about what the safest course of action would be. But she couldn't think for too long, lest she ruin her own timing. "I need all the time I can get, time I don't have an abundance of. I'll just need to hold it," she sighed. She was confident in her capacity, so she wasn't afraid or anything like that. But she could tell already, it was going to be uncomfortable.

\---------------

_Oh Maria!_   
_Oh Maria!_   
_My beloved, do you hear_   
_My words whispered in you ear_   
_As if I were by your side?_

The voice was muffled, but Celes could easily hear the loud singing through the backstage door to her dressing room. The opera had started, and soon, the former general would be making her acting debut. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach. She could swear her face was turning pale, she certainly didn't feel well.

And she couldn't tell what was causing the sick feeling, her stomach or her bladder, both were bothering her quite severely. Celes had made a major calculation error, while her need to urinate had grown the expected amount in an hour's span, she had underestimated how much that would leave her holding.

Celes really needed to pee. Under normal circumstances, she'd be hurrying over to the toilet, or whatever else she'd be making a toilet, just to avoid any unnecessary distractions. But now, she had missed her chance, it wasn't possible to relieve herself before putting herself under the spotlight anymore. And because of her adamant desire to study the script, a script she still wasn't sure she had memorized, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the performance. "I can't believe I let myself make such a critical mistake."

Against her better wishes, she gripped the front of her dress, pushing the silky fabric into her crotch. "Mmph," she whined, biting her bottom lip and rubbing her knees together, cradling her wrists against her thighs, the skin of her hands and legs being scraped by the interlocking threads of her dress, friction beginning to burn her.

Not that she ever wanted to, but looking at her dress, it really reminded Celes that she could not afford to leak. This dress was thin, and very brilliantly white, even a little golden splotch would stick out. Which also meant that, even if worst should come to worst, taking the edge off by leaking a little out would simply not be an option. Her only choice would be to really test her mettle and hold it all in. A prospect that, she had to admit, wasn't guaranteed anymore.

"The Western armies were defeated, and Maria's castle fell into the hands of the East."

"Oh, shoot! That's my cue!" There wasn't time to worry about her bladder, she needed to be on stage now. She let go of her crotch, eliciting a whine, and ran through the door, only almost tripping over her dress once. She did stop to make sure the door wouldn't slam shut, but not until at the last second.

The running did her bladder absolutely no favors. It was all she could do to grin and bear it as she arrived behind the drawn curtains, able to see the performance from the side. She had to admit, the castle set was well-done, obviously fake, but with a lot of props and a detailed painted backdrop. It'd be a real shame if she ruined it, in front of the hundreds of audience members, whom she could just barely make out from her vantage point.

All at once, her worst fears took hold of her with an icy, unfaltering grip. She had agreed to, or rather, been roped into, appearing in front of a full house, where every eye would be focused solely on her. She didn't know how to act, she didn't know how to sing, and here she was, to be judged by the harshest critics the world had to offer. Not that she needed to impress them, but she had to pass as a professional to Setzer. It suddenly occurred to her exactly how bad this whole plan was.

"Maria still thinks only of Draco, as she gazes at the stars each night..."

That was it, the final line from the narrator before Maria takes the stage. Taking a deep breath to steel herself for what was to come, Celes gently walked onto the stage, under the spotlights still making her sweat despite being turned down to create a night scene, with only the light wooden pillars to offer shade. This was it. Celes Chere had made her acting debut.

She turned to face the audience, to better project her voice, and nearly froze. She wasn't shy, but there was a huge difference between people looking at her and being the sole center of attention. In battle, most were too busy on the fight to stare at the general, but now people were intently watching her every move, enough to make anyone nervous. And the knowledge that they were all watching her in her time of intense pee desperation was mortifying on top of that.

That's when her gaze turned upwards, to the balcony. It was hard to tell, being so high up and further away, but she could see the people sitting in those exclusive seats. Besides the impresario of the opera house, there were her teammates Edgar and Sabin, and between them, was Locke. It would have been very easy for that to frighten her further, someone she was close to witnessing what was already embarrassing and could very quickly turn shameful. However, that's not how Celes took it. Locke watching her intently, probably smiling, it made her feel...calm. At ease. Warm.

Or maybe that warmth was caused by something else, a small spot beneath her dress. "Eep!" The large, empty room hid her outburst, but nothing could change that it happened at all. Not even a minute after declaring her need to not leak, she had done just that. It was very small, no one watching had any clue, but it was a bad omen. Maybe her bladder wouldn't be as cooperative as she had hoped.

The new filter renewed her worry at all the people staring. They would all see her have an accident, should it come to that. She'd never be able to live that down, or if no one teased her for something so juvenile, she'd never forgive herself. No, she couldn't let it happen, not another drop. All she could do was finish her performance and get off the stage. Inhaling deeply, she opened her mouth and began to sing.

_O my hero, my beloved,_   
_Shall we still be made to part,_   
_Though promises of perennial love_   
_Yet sing here in my heart?_

Celes had no clue how well she could carry a tune, but without any formal training, she had believed it would be pretty poor. That's why she was surprised when her eyes glanced across the audience, where no one was laughing, and no one was making snide comments to the person in the seat next to them. No, they were watching her, satisfied. Very few people had any reason to watch her with satisfaction before now. Fear, pride, sense of nationalism, those were all fair game, but who would be genuinely happy to see her?

However, they were sure to mock her if she had an accident. There was no shortage of reasons why she should continue to hold it until her bladder burst, it was only a question of if she could manage. And thinking about it was making it a lot worse, the way her bladder strained and stretched in its master's steadfast refusal to relieve it. The poor, overworked organ had no choice but to take matters into its own hands, forcing further spurts of urine past her holding muscles, into the pair of panties she was borrowing to be part of the costume. But in an impressive display of her own brand of acting, or maybe she just didn't notice a little more wetness in the heat of the moment, the show went on, uninterrupted.

_I'm the darkness, you're the starlight_   
_Shining brightly from afar._   
_Through hours of despair, I offer this prayer_   
_To you, my evening star._

Her bladder continued to complain, but at least she wasn't leaking more. Maybe she could at least manage until her part was over. It wouldn't be pretty, it'd be the very definition of suffering, but if she survived, that would be enough. Just had to hold out...

_Must my final vows exchanged_   
_Be with him and not with you?_   
_Were you only here To quiet my fear..._   
_O speak! Guide me anew._

That's when a wrench was thrown right in the middle of Celes' plans. Prince Ralse took the stage, or rather, the actor playing him, whatever his name was. That's right, now was his entrance, the scene where the two would share a romantic dance as Maria pined for her distant Draco. This was the scene she had been fearing ever since she first read it in the script, and as it approached the present, she was just as gripped with fear as she predicted. Now, not only could she not dance, but she'd need to move around while she was filled with more water than Lete River.

"Come, Maria! Dance with me," Prince Ralse beckoned, extending his hand to take his fair lady's, which Celes had no choice but to comply with. The two grasped, as the general followed the actor's lead in rhythmic step. She did her best to keep up, but untrained feet could only do so much without looking like a fool. Her muscles stiffened and tensed in desperation was also doing her dance no favors.

Yet somehow, she kept time. Anyone close up could tell how much she was fumbling, but from the distance the audience was stationed, she looked...passable. She was following the directions as best as she could, given the circumstances. But then she started to slip. She couldn't even remember how the dance was supposed to go in the script. She was acting entirely on instinct, the worst thing someone with no sense of theater could do. She just strode without thinking, requiring Ralse to take the initiative and improvise so the two didn't stumble over each other.

Every thought in Celes' head was occupied with abstaining from staining her dress, it was all she could do to prevent anything more severe than a few light trickles. She could feel the warmth streaming down her legs, soaking into her stockings, hidden by the hanging white skirt. Once again, luck was on her side, but luck could only carry her so far.

"Alas, dear Maria, my duty calls me away from your loving visage. However, I hope that while you pine for me in my absence, this gift shall tide you and remind you of me," Ralse waxed poetically, revealing a bouquet of red flowers, gently laid on the ground before her. Celes didn't remember that line from the script, but given that she could barely remember her own name under the stress, it wasn't up to her to judge whether the line was improvised by Ralse to get away from her, or if she was just forgetting. She wasn't in the state of mind to judge something so stupid, anyway.

Speaking of memory, as Ralse disappeared backstage, she had the inkling of an idea that she was forgetting something important. Only once she had been alone on stage for five seconds did it hit her: she had more lyrics! Next up was...was...her mind was blank. All she could do was look around frantically, pretending nothing was wrong while literally everything was, until she saw the bouquet left on the stage floor. She had to do something with that, she was sure, and knelt down to pick it up.

That was a mistake. She realized it was a mistake immediately. Not only was it incredibly strenuous to bend her stiff joints, but getting into a position somewhat close to a squat was murder on her bladder. It was almost like permission, like now she was supposed to pee, and here it came. Another squirt, with the power of an Auto Crossbow, jetted from her privates, where her underwear was now too soaked to contain it. It darted straight through like an armor-piercing spell, shooting the little spurt onto the wooden panels between her feet.

More than the overstuffed room and bright lights could ever do, Celes was sweating daggers. All her tiny accidents were bringing her no relief, and the tactile sensation of her leaks was only making the urge to grow them even more pressing. She needed to get off this stage. Away from prying eyes. She could piss herself then.

But there was some reason she was even in this opera, wasn't there? Something about a gambler? Of course, Setzer and his airship! She was a highly-trained former imperial general, she couldn't forget her mission. Nor could she ignore it for her own personal needs, even if an accident was sure to turn Setzer off Maria in a heartbeat. Which meant she had no choice but to hold it. Not like she hadn't been through torture before. That's how she met Locke, after all.

But it all hinged on doing her part, which involved more than just staying dry, or rather, not getting any wetter. One step at a time, first was just finishing this scene. With the bouquet in her hands, she could only follow the one command echoing through her brain: climb. She needed to climb these stairs up to the balcony, and continue her singing.

Now, what was her next line? She somehow stumbled onto the platform, overlooking the painted night sky, but her thoughts were as scattered and distant as stars, represented by white dots on the canvas. And the void between was filled with a thick, overwhelming, encroaching burning desire to pee, and pee, and pee until every inch of her lower body was drenched in hot liquids. She had a vague idea of the next stanza, muddled through an infinite sea of burning urine, but it was all she had to go on.

_We must part now, my life goes on._   
_But my heart won't give you up._   
_Ere I walk away, let me hear you say_   
_I meant as much to you..._

That didn't sound right. The meter was okay, impressive enough in its own right for something she made up on the spot, but the rhymes were terrible. Only one line rhymed, and it was an incredibly basic rhyme a child could come up with. The audience was probably none the wiser, which was all that really mattered, but the impresario was likely fuming at her for going off-script. So long as her dress stayed white, now increasingly contrasting with her near-red face, she'd be satisfied. Even her handling of the bouquet began to falter, as she lost her grip on the flowers and accidentally sent them flying off the parapet.

_So gently, you touched my heart._   
_I will be forever yours._   
_Come what may, I won't age a day,_   
_I'll wait for you, always..._

Now that verse was awful. She had the melody down, it was hard not to when it followed the same sequence every time, but her lyrics were not built to match them. Mind racing like a Chocobo, she needed to stretch and rush syllables to make any kind of auditory sense, and it sounded bad. Without even looking, she could tell hundreds of funny eyes were on her, with the light whispers to neighbors beginning to surface.

And it mixed horribly with the other sound reaching her ears. A light splish-splash of droplets falling from the approximate height of her crotch, hitting the floor with gravity's power, the noise doubling in volume when the drops began hitting the tiny puddle they grouped together to form, rather than the wood. It probably wasn't that loud, but to Celes, each drop might as well have been cannon fire.

And now there was another sound approaching behind her to add to the cacophony, stretching Celes' patience thin. "Prince Ralse is looking for his dance partner. Please, leave the past behind! Our kingdom is part of the East now..."

Celes turned around to face the chancellor, making her own creative decision by clasping her hands together and pressing them against the front of her dress, in that frilly princess way as she slowly walked as fast as she could off the stage. She was able to covertly hold herself while not letting on something was up, and while she could feel the immense wetness of her panties spilling over to the inner layer of her dress as a result, her cleverly-positioned hands hid that fact. Not like she had a choice, anyway.

"Nicely done out there, 'Maria'," one of the other actors, dressed similar to an imperial soldier, chuckled.

"Laugh it up," Celes groaned, bouncing on her high heels. "How long until I need to be back on stage?" She'd rip the dress if she had to, she'd get on the toilet, she'd rush however fast she needed to, whatever it took to pee.

"What do you mean? You're in the next scene."

Okay, maybe she couldn't run that fast. "Next scene?! Can't you do something to delay it?!"

"Getting cold feet, are we? Sorry, nothing we can do. The show must go on, they say."

Celes could cry. She had thrown herself through hell, even fought the emperor of hell himself, just to survive that single scene. And now she had to go right back out without even a moment to rest. Part of her, a very large part in fact, wanted so desperately to say no. Her show was over, and she'd be in the restroom for the next hour. Actually, the restroom was optional, she might just give in right where she was standing and do her business in full view of a few people. Better than in front of everyone.

But there was still something missing. She hadn't been kidnapped yet. She swore, until Setzer had abducted her, she was Maria. And Maria knew better than to go on stage with a full bladder, she would never be so desperate during a performance. That meant Celes couldn't be either. She'd be dying on the inside, and secretly drenched on the outside, but if she needed to continue acting to keep the charade up, then so be it. She swore on her remaining honor that she would continue this agonizing hold, for as long as her body held out. "Just a tiny bit longer, right?"

\---------------

Celes was quickly turning into a Bomb: ready to cast Exploder at any second. If anyone was lucky enough to see up her dress, there would be none of the color white to be found. All the actors on stage for the big ballroom scene had begun to quietly theorize that some of the water pipes running in the rafters were springing leaks, with all the puddles they had begun to find themselves stepping into.

And Celes' sanity was only being held together by a thin strand. If she had to keep a brave face for a second longer, she'd go mad, screaming and spurting. Pee just kept slipping out no matter what she did to stop it, which wasn't much given how she was currently occupied with more infernal dancing. It seemed impossible to believe that she still felt she could outdo a waterfall in terms of tidal force when she was already wearing half her bladder, but the unceasing anguish didn't lie.

Right there, in the middle of her clumsy dance with Prince Ralse, they were interrupted by a guard running in, as expected. "The Western survivors attack!"

"Impossible!" Ralse drew a sword from underneath his coat, just in time, as numerous soldiers stormed the ballroom, beginning duels with the Eastern men of the castle. If she wasn't dying of desperation, practically in another lifetime, she'd be judging the poor swordsmanship on display. They were simply charging at their opponents, attacks bouncing off harmlessly as they repeated their ineffectual barrage. Each and every one of them would be pariahs in the imperial training camps. But at the moment, if it wasn't a toilet, Celes couldn't care less.

"Can't pee, can't pee, but I'm really going to if I can't run now..." She couldn't stop muttering to herself, a sort of nervous habit, letting her verbal thoughts be drowned out by the orchestra. She had never needed a bathroom this bad in her life. It was amazing that she hadn't given in yet, but she wasn't made of stone, she'd need to soak herself soon. "Where the hell is Setzer?" She could do nothing but wait, with every ounce of her strength redirected to her rapidly failing bladder.

Even as Draco rode in on a live Chocobo, Celes was blacked out, lost in her own flooded little world. Her cue to sing flew her by without even the slightest response, grinding every other actor to a halt as they wondered why their co-star was suddenly a statue. She was froze, not even a shiver or squeak, the only motion she emanated were the subtle twitches of her dress as urine crashed into it from the inside. A tiny splotch of yellow was finally visible from the outside.

There was only one possible thing to shake her from her funk: a giant purple octopus falling from the ceiling. She wouldn't have ever imagined that exact scenario happening if it didn't. The cephalopod squirmed as he collided with the wooden panels, followed shortly by three louder crashes of Locke, Edgar, and Sabin hitting the stage, almost hitting her. The narrative of the opera ground stopped dead in its tracks, as all attention was thankfully robbed from Celes to the unwelcome guests. She unwittingly took the opportunity to grow the wet patch on her dress.

In the absence of direction, where every actor and honorary actor could only look between each other for guidance, the impresario took the stage. "Oh no, this'll never do! With those two flattened, there's no one to win the girl! How can the story possibly continue?!" What a brilliant move, to act like the sudden appearance of an octopus was all scripted in this story of a war-torn romance.

And he wasn't the only one keeping up an act. Locke was the first of the three men to regain his bearings, instantly stealing the show. "Neither Draco nor Ralse will win Celes' hand! It is I, Locke, the world's premier adventurer, who shall take her as my wife!"

"What are you doing, Locke," Celes berated, through clenched teeth.

"Just wanted to have a little fun," he responded, with a cheeky grin. "Anything to save you from those first-night jitters."

Great, so he had noticed something was wrong all the way up in the balcony seats. She could take comfort in him not being able to place why she was so fidgety, if it wasn't painfully obvious he'd soon have the front row seat to the exposing climax. "I wasn't exactly looking for your help, you know!"

"Oh dear...what dreadful acting," the impresario lamented.

"Silence, knave! You stand in the presence of octopus royalty! A lowborn thief like you could never defeat me!" Out of every non-professional on the stage, the octopus was sadly the best actor.

"Hmm...might as well make the most of this. Music!" Under the impresario's orders, the orchestra flared to life again with a lively jump, perfect backing for the boys to engage the weird purple freak. All the other actors, and their wooden weapons, fled the stage. Celes wasn't even invited to take part in the battle, not that she could be anything but a liability, she'd probably be dropping her sword through her trembling fingers, if she had one to hold.

Good thing the fight was so exciting, with chainsaws, suplexes, and real magic, to keep the audience's attention away from the leading lady, or else they'd see the rare sight of an imperial general grabbing at her crotch tightly while doing a very unflattering, immature dance. She didn't want it to come to this, but it was the only thing she could do to stem the flow for only slightly longer.

Poor Celes could pop at any second. Her abdominal area was burning with the fury of a Firaga and the sting of a Thundaga, a deadly dualcast. She was helpless as her body made the decision to cast Drain on itself, only amplifying the pain as Leviathan's flood gushed from her privates, dying the dress she wore a vivid shade of gold, destroying the contrast between the previously-white garment and her blond hair.

Celes fell to her knees with a loud thud, splashing in the puddle she was rapidly creating and expanding. The warm, golden pool spread to a wide, uneven radius and the bottom half of her dress was entirely painted yellow. She was making a fool of herself, in a way that none had seen before, outside Grandpa Cid when she was very young. Some other soldiers had seen her doing her business in incidents she'd rather forget, but never anything in such a state of full dress. She closed her eyes in a childish attempt to hide from the consequences of her failure, before she had to face those judging stares.

And when it rains, it pours. With an Aura Bolt, Sabin laid the finishing blow. "Thwarted again," the octopus shouted. "I feel like such a sucker. Well, kids, hate to ink and run...but I am an octopus!" Fast as the wind, he slithered out, through the aisles and out the opera hall. Locke, Edgar, and Sabin enjoyed their moment of victory, but it didn't last long, and the audience's attention was instead drawn to the far more unique sight: the grown woman wetting herself. The music came to a screeching halt, and an awed hush swept over the opera hall. Celes had no choice but to open her eyes, and greeting her was the most horrifying sight she'd seen yet in her life: hundreds of bright, wide eyes, all focused squarely on her. Unwavering, unmoving, all directed to taking in as much of the humiliating sight as possible.

Her shame before the audience, as awful as it was, mortifying enough to last a lifetime, was over before long. Before long, even her teammates, attracted by the sound of splashing water, were magnetically drawn to staring at her. They turned one by one, jaws falling as, suddenly, they couldn't look away from their very own General Celes, beacon of strength, pride, and maturity, disgraced herself in spectacularly sloppy style. It hurt when Sabin looked, it hurt when Edgar saw, but when Locke got his turn, Celes' heart stopped and her throat closed, choking up as she fought back the urge to burst out tears.

The two relevant parties stared silently at each other for what felt like an eternity. There were some coughs, a couple whines accidentally escaping Celes' mouth to add to her track record of inadvertent releases, but things were almost deathly quiet. After all, Celes wanted to die. There was no greater disgrace she could imagine than incontinence in front of a large crowd, including the people she needed to accept her and side with her, for the good of the world. And Locke...Locke seeing her like this was a whole other kind of shame.

She wanted to say something, some meaningless phrase to shift blame off her own incompetence or make herself feel better, but she couldn't. It was like she was suddenly muted. There was nothing for her to do but stew in her own sense of personal failure.

Her team couldn't say anything either. All the three could do was look between each other, stunned, gesturing wildly in Celes' direction, but no one dared take a step towards her. They leaned into each other to whisper, whose words were only barely audible. "Go to her, Locke. A fair lady's heart is fragile, and she needs comfort," Edgar encouraged.

Locke looked away nervously. "No, I'm...not very good helping women."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't try. That's the true path to strength," Sabin supported.

Locke looked for some kind of out, a clean escape from the responsibility thrust upon him, until the two Figaro brothers grew tired of his hesitation and shoved him forward, with enough physical strength to land him almost directly in front of Celes, close enough that he was also splashed in the mess. Now he had no choice but to play the sympathy card. "So...what happened here?"

"What do you think happened? I'm a failure!" Celes exploded in a fit of rage, lashing out at Locke for having the gall to approach her. "What kind of general-"

"Former general."

"What difference does it make?! No matter what you call me, no one in my stature should pee themselves!"

"Well...what stature? You're a member of the Returners, and that's it. A new one at that, so don't think you have seniority either."

"'That's it'?! I am a decorated imperial general, and even if I've left that life behind, I am not going to simply forget all my hard work and accomplishments!"

"And chief among those accomplishments is gaining too much pride to think they're still capable of making human mistakes, it seems."

"There's a difference between a little slip-up and peeing themselves in front of a massive audience! I think anyone my age who does something this embarrassing is a failure, regardless of their military rank!"

"It's only a problem if word spreads." Locke stood up and moved to center stage, facing the audience. "Any of you tell anyone about what happened here, I'll rip your lungs out!" He pulled his knife out, to add to the intimidation. And not a single audience member spoke out, instead shrinking back into their seats.

"Why...why are you going so far to protect me?"

"Didn't I say I would? Do you think the great treasure hunter Locke goes back on his word?" He returned to his position next to Celes, down to kneeling in the same puddle. "I don't leave women who need me." He made a grand gesture of winking at her.

Somehow, amidst the depressing mess her role in this opera had turned into, Celes found the strength to smirk back. "I don't need some lowlife mugger to protect me. I'll continue to do it myself. I wouldn't dare take on the Empire if I..." Her voice trailed off as she was reminded of a horrifying thought. "Setzer saw all that. No way he's going to give us that airship now."

"I'd say there's still a good chance," Edgar assured, approaching the two, himself taking care to avoid needlessly sullying his boots. "Setzer's a gambler, he follows the fleeting fancy of Lady Luck." Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a silver coin, resting its face on his thumb, hidden inside a loose fist. "Heads, we still succeed. Tails, you just cost us." He flipped the coin into the air, allowing it to bounce and come to a spinning rest on the stage floor.

Being closest, Locke picked it up, looked it over, and smiled. "Heads." He held it before Celes' face, allowing her to confirm.

"Let me see that." She took the coin, looked it over, and smiled. A warm, happy, genuine smile. "So it would seem." She hurled the silver piece back towards Edgar, who caught it and slipped it back into his coat.

"Here, let me help you up." Locke took hold of Celes' shoulders, lifting her back to her shaky footing. Shaky footing he almost toppled by giving her a few hearty pats on the back, nearly dropping her back into the puddle and further soaking her. But Celes would not be felled so easily. Not with this new strength she had found, one bigger than herself, one she shared with her friends. She allowed Locke to lead her away, towards backstage.

"Bravo!" A shout came from above the stage, stopping any form of escape, exacerbated by the lights all going black, outside of one spotlight centered on Celes. "My compliments on a most impressive performance!" While everyone was looking around frantically, confused, one man took advantage of the chaos to drop onto the stage from above. A silver-haired man, in a black longcoat and fancy suit, landed perfectly between Celes and Locke.

The impresario recognized him immediately. "Setzer!"

"I'm a man of my word, impresario!" Before she could even get a grasp on what had happened in the past few seconds, Setzer grabbed Celes around the stomach, restraining her arms and holding her from behind. "I'm taking Maria!"

She had prepared for the abduction, so Celes remained calm. "So, you're Setzer?"

"Yes, dear Maria. Your knight in shining armor has come to whisk you away to paradise."

With blinding speed, Celes freed her right arm and gave a solid punch over her right shoulder, her fist connecting with Setzer's face quite well, though the poor vantage and leverage gave him the chance to soften the blow to avoid a broken nose. "That's for keeping a woman waiting."


End file.
